теплотà
by thisisnotausedaccountanymore
Summary: When going home Russia always expects to find Belarus. But where is she this time, and who is her guest? Sorry for the suckish and unimaginative summary. The title means warmth in Russian, or it does according to my beginners dictionary.


Ivan left the Allied Meeting in a particularly cheery mood, not that there was anything in particular to be cheery about; it was just his nature. The meetings had gone the same way for while now; arguments leading to the very amusing fights some of the other nations indulged in.

And it was not as if he was to be happy for long; he had to go home. As Ivan began to trudge further into Russia, the cold that always seemed to follow him dropped several degrees. It was enough to drop the cheery mood with it.

Ivan wrinkled his nose disdainfully; it had begun to snow. His body-temperature and mood continued on a frigid descent, though the snow was not wholly responsible for his bad disposition. He shivered. Just thinking about his sister's company made him colder than any Russian inundation. He sneered at his train of thought. Natalia.

They'd said he was mad, ha! They had never truly had to deal with her, not even Toris, the infatuated idiot. How could he possibly want her? She was relentless, a fool. Natalia was always lurking somewhere in his house; demanding to marry him. He laughed. Yes, she was a fool alright. Her petty attempts at seduction and intimidation were futile. It was not as if Ivan could just kill her, or even beat her. She was his sister; his family. Ivan doubted he could do such a deed without feeling remorse. He thought of her again. Or maybe he could. He turned his thoughts elsewhere and continued on.

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Ivan caught the first glimpse of his home and cringed. This was about the time Belarus came charging out at him like some animal in heat. How infuriating for him and embarrassing for her. Not that anyone else was here to see their humiliating relationship. He waited a few seconds then continued on, pleased that he still remained solitary. Could it be that she wasn't here?

When he reached his abode Ivan shut the door with resounding gusto. He waited one second, two. Nothing but silence. He chuckled and began to whistle as he strolled down the hallway. However, this mirth was short-lived as he looked around the mansion. After an incident with the few remaining servants a while back the house had been left unclean for a few months. Likewise, no fires were kept making the rooms feel even cooler than the air outside. Or maybe that was his imagination. It wasn't that keeping fires made much of a difference anyways; he hadn't been warm here since he was a boy, spending his days warming himself in the affection of Ukraine and her gift. He pulled on the scarf and smiled. At least his neck was warm. But Ukraine never came around here anymore; he hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages.

This house was hell to say the least, Ivan's own personal hell, equipped with his own personal Lucifer. And then he heard the devil, through the wood of an old servant's door.

And then she laughed. This laugh was strange; it wasn't condescending or intimidating, it sounded like it was genuine laughter, directed at something found amusing. So the bitch could laugh? And with another person? It must be, for he knew she didn't talk with herself, for all her madness she never sought her own company, let alone laughed in it. She'd always conducted herself in a rather serious and determined manner. This meant she had company. Whoever she was conversing with must be terrible to make her laugh in such a way.

And Ivan was terrified. He never allowed himself to be fully terrified at the hands of Belarus, but dealing with another person of the like? He would surely become as mad as her, possibly was already as mad having suffered her company for so long. But, no, no he wasn't. He was in the right frame of mind, just at his limit. And yet he was still terrified. He fled to his room, shut the door quietly, and locked it. He let out the breath he'd been holding; she wouldn't come to him in his room again, right?

He walked over to his shelves of books venturing for something to read, as there was not much else to entertain oneself with in this place. He picked a book at random and sat at his desk, smiling at the sunflowers he had kept in a vase. Glancing at the first page, he sighed. No doubt he could recite this book from memory, along with every other book in his library. He focused once more on the Russian literature he held in his hands. It would have to do.

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Careful not to make too much noise Ivan slowly opened his door and peered into the hallway. Satisfied that he had not seen his sister lurking in the shadows, he continued on as planned to the kitchen. It was not as if he could avoid his sister forever and he found himself curious to meet the one that had created some mirth in Natalia. What's more, the grumbling in his stomach couldn't be ignored much longer.

As he got closer to his destination Ivan smelled something cooking. He was delighted; this meant it would actually be warm! He never actually saw his younger sister cook before, just knew it was always cold and slightly revolting when he got there; a bit like English food. At the smell Ivan picked up the speed in his stride and entered the kitchen without thinking about the two that indisputably took refuge there.

When he entered the room and glanced around he caught no sight of Natalia, much to his relief. But the room was not empty. In front of the stove stood a woman of medium height, tanned skin, with rather unattractively mousy brown hair assembled in a bun. She must not have heard him enter because she remained intent on her task. Upon further examination Ivan noted that she looked rather nice. She wore the same outfit Natalia wore, except in a gray colour. He shook his head at that.

He took a step towards her. Hearing his tread she whirled around as if in shock, hand-on-heart. In doing so she displayed the front of her body to him. Her face was pleasant to look at, though it couldn't be called beautiful, hardly even pretty. Looking downward he realized she was much like Ukraine. He felt warmth touch his fingertips.

He had honestly not meant to scare her, and part of him actually felt badly for doing so. Then there was the part that wanted to laugh at her obvious fright. The part of him that thrilled at startling others was always there. He smiled. She was charming.

The woman calmed herself, looked at him, and in soft, fluent Russian said, "Would you like to have something to eat? And please quit smiling like that, you're giving me the creeps."

Slightly shocked at her blunt speaking, Ivan laughed and continued smiling. And the woman didn't look like he gave her the creeps.

At hearing his laughter, she smiled right back at him, almost like she knew what his reaction would be. How odd, no one had smiled at him in a long time. Had they met before? But no, he would have surely remembered a girl so genial. Yet it was only a smile, and he was a fool to think it was anything more. He was just a bit lonely. Maybe he could get Raivis or Toris to come here again. He chuckled darkly at the idea.

And the girl smiled wider, as if she knew his thoughts and agreed. He almost outwardly gasped when he felt it, but caught himself. The warmth he had felt only in his fingertips and underneath Ukraine's scarf spread across his entire body; from the top of his head, to the tips of his toes.


End file.
